Memories
by Nymus
Summary: What was he, at the end?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The characters belongs to Hiro Mashima**

 **Written for the When We Take Different Paths event on Tumblr.**

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 **Memories**

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Memories were usually seen as a huge part of every human being. They defined what you became or what you definitely didn't want to be. They could be allies or enemies, sweet and soft or hard to swallow, like sand and dust. Memories created paths for us to follow whether we chose to take them or not. They held our past and therefore the basis of our future, whatever we want it to be. Memories were a lot trickier for him.

It was hard, most of the time, to discern what was truly a memory and what wasn't anything but a made up lie to cover some tracks. It was easier to ignore when he had a clear goal, a clear course of action to follow with no need to ask himself if what he was doing was actually something he wanted to do or something he tricked himself into believing he wanted to do. It was all fine and good when he didn't need to think by himself, when he didn't have to worry about staying true to himself. It was a lot harder on quiet days, those days when he was free to do whatever he pleased. At this moment, he wasn't sure if he really had liked something at any point of his life. He guessed he should have, since he must have been a whole person once, instead of this shell full of shattered memories and unfulfilled wishes. There must have been a time when he knew exactly who he was, what he wanted and what he held dear.

Things were a lot blurrier now. Now, he only felt like a traitor. A traitor both to his guild and to the council because he sent one of them to die and was unable to save the other one. He was weak and all of his world died, twice, leaving him with nothing but a void inside and ashes and corpses to bury. And maybe he shouldn't feel like he failed the council because he was never actually part of them, but after so many years spent at its quarters it was hard to separate himself from his other part. The fake one, the lie.

Sometimes he wished he were still under his own spell, still unable to remember that he had actually been an spy instead of a loyal Rune Knight. At least then he thought he was following his life's dream, fighting evil and helping to make the world a better place. Even if it had been a lie, it had been a kind one, one meant to ease his mind while also tricking everyone else into thinking he was perfect. It had been so good he had even fooled him. He didn't want to think about him.

Some days, when he was feeling weaker, he thought about maybe deleting all his memories related to the Rune Knights. He played with the idea on his mind, thinking of the right spell and the easiest way to do it. It was a bit more difficult than what he did when he became a spy, since that time he was just hiding the guild and his comrades, bending what he knew about them into so many folds they became a miniscule space on his mind, a part so tiny that it was easily overlooked and ignored but ready to come back when the right magic touched them. Deleting everything would be harder and maybe even painful. Some days, he thought the pain would be almost worth it. He never did it, anyway. It would mean giving up something he wasn't ready to lose. And even when that may also be a lie, it was a lie he wanted to keep. At least for now.

He also both wanted and not to think about it. It was a complicated topic to say the least. In fact, complicated was running short to express what he felt when he thought about that particular situation. His relationship with the Rune Knight's captain thrived through the shared years, good and bad, but it was always under the assumption he was one of is loyal subordinates. At that time, it had seemed like an insuperable distance, the cold wall of responsibility between them. It had slowly broken and melted, day by day, until they got to the nice stage of friendship. Even that had seemed inappropriate by Council's laws, barely tolerable as long as it didn't affect missions or reports. However, being friends fell short for them not so long after and then things got a bit uncomfortable. There was an obvious line they shouldn't cross and yet… Yet he took the first step ahead and he wasn't disappointed. Sometimes he wondered if it had been part of his role, if seducing the Rune Knight's Captain had seemed like a great way to get information about the Council and its movements. It surely had been, he now knew. He learned a lot of things thanks to sharing a bed, sometimes, with Lahar. The problem was, he wasn't sure if it was all behind it.

That was, he guessed, the bigger problem there. He was a horrible human being, that's for sure, and just the thought of himself playing with the other man's feelings made him sick on the stomach everytime. It made him think he didn't deserve anything but loneliness and pain. It made him wish he had never agreed to the master's mission. It made him wish he had never met him. It made him search for spells and words to delete all his memories and make him an empty but new man. And yet he didn't. He didn't because he couldn't stop thinking how there was something else. A small part of him refused to believe everything that he had felt once was just a well constructed lie. He couldn't accept it, since nothing else had ever felt so strong as all the love, admiration and respect he still hoarded for the other man.

Not even before all this mess, the old times that were, supposedly, his real life. Nothing had ever felt so real as the fake love he lived with a fake name. A feeling he had twisted and tainted with the shades of treason he carried everywhere. And he didn't want to let it go. He would pay whatever price for keeping that tiny flame alive. If he had to spend his whole future feeling guilty just so he could still remember that they had once held hands, so let it be. At least then, he could bask in the old feeling of being loved. He had been loved. Once. He wasn't anymore, not by his guild and not by Lahar, but he had been once. And it was enough. It had to be enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: The characters belongs to Hiro Mashima**

 **Written for the When We Take Different Paths event on Tumblr.**

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 **Memories**

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Once upon a time, when he was still living as Doranbolt, he had lost himself after the Tenrou incident. It made sense, he guessed, now that he knew the truth. The guild had been his life and therefore it wasn't strange that he found himself without a meaning when they died. Even though he didn't remember, at that time, he was a part of Fairy Tail, something inside of him always knew.

It didn't feel that different now. Maybe it didn't make sense this time, maybe he should feel pride for a successfully completed mission and, maybe, he was stupid for feeling a traitor when he had never betrayed those that really mattered. In the end, it wasn't relevant what he should and should not feel because he was slowly losing himself again. And, sometimes, he felt like there was also a little bit of sanity leaving him every day. Drowning in memories instead of alcohol this time, some real, some fake, some both of them and also nothing at all.

Once upon a time, someone had come to find him and tell him life was not as bad as he thought it was. That, however, wouldn't happen again. He wasn't that lucky and he didn't deserve it. There was no second chance or whatever for him because there had never been a first one to begin with. It didn't mean he stopped worrying or feeling like… Like he felt. Whatever it was. In fact, he was still utterly concerned about Lahar and his well being, he just didn't feel like he should be. That was the reason he never tried to contact him when he was informed the other man had survived.

He didn't know exactly how Lahar was, had never once seen him since the day of the explosion. He had been too busy at first and too ashamed later. He had been keeping track of the other man's progress from a distance, never daring to get close enough to get the slightest possibility of an encounter. He didn't see the captain during the war and he hoped it was because he didn't show at all. It had been over a year, but he knew he still needed a lot of rest. His magic was slowly coming back to what it once was, but it was better to not force it. At least, that was what the medical report said, he didn't know for sure. It could be way better than it sounded. Or worse.

Whatever it was, Mest didn't really know, because he was a coward and never dared to leave his house unless he was forced to. He didn't feel strong enough to start anew, not when there was nothing left for him, not when everything he saw brought a new memory of something he wished he could forget. Like the sun filtering through his window, its warm light reflecting on the crystal cup on his table and making him think of someone's glasses shining under the morning sun. How much more ridiculous could he get? He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

His thoughts were soon shut up by someone knocking at his door. The sound made him tense, since no one knocked at his door anymore. His guild mates used to do it, when the war was just over, but they had stopped long ago. There was no one else he could think of who would be interested in talking to him. Maybe it was some kind of merchant. If that were the case, they would leave as soon as they took a look at him. He was anything but the stamp of a wealthy man.

It was the idea of getting whoever was outside to leave as fast as possible, that convinced him to rise from his chair and open the door. Things, however, went a bit different from his dreamed situation.

"What are you doing here?" The words fell from his mouth harsher than he would have liked, but his shock overthrew any filter he could have had. Considering it was Lahar himself who was at his front door, he couldn't be really blamed.

"I got bored of your constant spying and since you didn't seem likely to pay a visit, I thought I would do it myself." The man entered the house as if it was his own, barely wrinkling his nose when he saw the disaster inside it.

"Why?"

"Can't I just miss an old colleague? It's not like I have too many things to do now."

"We… We are not colleagues. We never were."

"Ah. What were we, then? And honestly, why does this place look like a rat's nest?"

"I… You know. Why are you acting as if you don't know what I am? What I did."

There was a silence while the other man seemed to be musing over his words. Dor- Mest couldn't read anything on his face but to tell the truth he had never been good at that. Unless, of course, Lahar wanted him to know what he was thinking, which happened a lot in the old days. It didn't seem to be the case this time. The ex-captain touched a table near the door leaving an imprint in the dust when his fingers left. He hummed a bit while looking at it before finally answering the question.

"I'm not sure. It just doesn't seem that important anymore."

"It doesn't… It just... " A choking noise left Mest's lips before he could stop it. It took him a moment to calm down enough to keep talking but Lahar didn't say anything else either. "How can you say that!? It's not a small infraction! It isn't even just an infraction anymore, how can you say it's not important!? Not relevant!? Why don't you care!?"

"And what do you want me to do?" Lahar said, a small amount of smugness on his voice. "Take you to jail? I'm not even sure there's a jail anymore."

"I don't know! Aren't you at least mad at me?" Mest didn't understand, he wasn't sure he wanted to, but it was already too late to take back his words and he didn't have anything to lose. Not anymore.

"So, let me tell you, almost dying is a very interesting experience." Mest flinched at his words, thrown away so casually as if he weren't talking about his own death. As if it didn't matter. The ex-captain didn't seem to care and just kept talking, wiping his hand on his clothes."It puts things in a new perspective, you might say. Also, recovering from almost dying is a long process and over zealous nurses are not a good company. It gives you a lot of time to think. So maybe yes, I was mad at you, and maybe I wanted to punish you, and maybe I once thought you deserved only the worst. Maybe I have thought a lot of ugly things since I learnt about your true affiliation. But it's been a long time since then, and a lot of things happened meanwhile. If I recall correctly, there was even a nasty war in-between."

"Time doesn't make it better or-" Lahar's hand raised in front of the other man's face.

"Shush. Don't interrupt me. I think you've spent enough time assuming what I think, so let me tell you what I actually think about this whole thing." The man paused, locking Mest in place with his eyes, almost daring him to keep interrupting. And Council training should have been very ingrained inside him, memories or not, because Mest actually shut his mouth and listened.

"The war was a weird time to be alive and with no magic control. You feel small, you know, staying behind after being on the front lines for so long. But there were people outside doing things. Fighting a new enemy. You happened to be one them, so I guess you know better than me how it really was. That's kind of the point, all of us didn't know too much about the war, besides it was going on somewhere. We didn't know if you were winning or losing, or if there were lives lost. So I was there, thinking of you, and the war, and the army and the council and the guild. And I realized I didn't want you to die. You are, still, all that's left. All that I have."

Mest felt a lump in his throat. He wasn't able to say anything, even when he wanted to say Lahar was wrong, disagree and scream they were nothing and they shouldn't talk ever again. He wanted to say it but he also wanted to believe the other's words. He wanted to believe there was something still salvageable between them. Something that didn't die, that didn't bleed to death.

If Lahar noted his dilemma, he didn't show it. He just kept talking, after a small pause.

"Once that was sorted," he said "it was kind of useless to dwell too much on everything else. The Council is lost. There's no Knight Corps anymore, and even if there was I can't be a Captain anymore. For good or bad, it's just you and me."

Time seemed to stop in the little house. Mest couldn't avoid wondering if he was dreaming or if he had already lost enough of his mind to start hallucinating. He would be lying if he said he didn't catch the subtle subtext Lahar ingrained on his words, but there was no way it could be true. He was sure Lahar meant well, but there was no way he would accept it. He wasn't worth the effort and Lahar deserved something better.

"There's… There's no you and me." He tried to make him understand. "There never was. I don't even know why are you here."

"I already told you that."  
"I don't understand…"

"Is it really that hard? I missed you and I was tired of you avoiding me, so I came here."

While Mest could understand the basics from that sentence, he still didn't get why Lahar would miss him. Why would he care so much about him, when he himself didn't want to deal with the broken pieces he had become. It was too much work for something he wasn't sure was whole anymore. He rubbed his face with his hand and sighed.

"What do you want from me? I can't give you anything."

"I had guessed that. But, I wonder, can I give you something?"

"You… Would you want to?"

"I thought I had made that clear enough."

Mest shook his head, feeling the floor spinning under him. He took a few steps until he found the chair he was sitting on before. He sat and his hands found their way to his hair, he felt more than saw the other man moving near him.

"Why are you here?" Mest asked, again.

"I want… I want to spend time with you. I want a lot of things, actually, but I think most of them are not wise, for now." Lahar said while he kneeled in front of the chair. "So I would like you to stop avoiding me, to stop hiding here and maybe entertain me a bit. Recovering is boring and… and lonely. I would like if you kept me company sometimes."

"I… I don't think I should. I don't think we should see each other."

"Why not?"

"It's not okay, after all I've done."

"I understand what happened. I'm not holding it against you. I still consider us… friends."

"It's not okay! You don't even know me!"

"I do."

"You don't! I don't even know who I am anymore, what can you now about me!? I'm no one!"

At that, Lahar recoiled a bit, making Mest felt guilty, but then his eyes flashed with new decision.

"If that's what you think, then maybe you should stop whining and hiding. Make a decision about who you want to be and work to be that man."

"You make it sounds so easy. As if I hadn't lost sight of my own self. What I was is..."

"It doesn't matter, don't you see? What you were doesn't matter because you're not that anymore. You can choose to be whoever you want, but you are just hiding and running away from that decision."

Mest would have loved to say something back, to deny the other man's words, but his refusal died on his lips. He didn't really have anything to argue back. He had done nothing to prove Lahar wrong. His hands fell limp at his sides when his strength to fight left him. The only thing he could do was look into the ex-captain's eyes, watching the intense gaze setting on his own. Trying to convey the truth of his next words.

"I don't care what you call yourself. I know you. I know enough about you, even if you think I don't. I know you are smart, and loyal, and dedicated to your cause. Those are things I lo- I liked about you. Those didn't change, wether you were Doranbolt or Mest. At the core, you were still the same person." Lahar took one of his hands, careful but firm, and squeezed it softly, his eyes never wavering. "And I would also like to know what you will be. What you want to become. I would like to be with the new you, as I was with your past one."

And maybe Mest was even more naive than he thought, because he could almost believe him. He could almost believe there was still a hope for him, no matter how small. Lahar had always been smarter than him, so if he believed there was something inside him worth saving, he should be right. Maybe, if he really wanted him by his side, Mest could find some strength to try again. He could try to stick the scattered pieces into a new picture. If it was the only thing Lahar wanted from him, he couldn't deny him a chance. He didn't have any words left, so he squeezed his hand back, a small gesture that was meaningful enough. Lahar smiled at him, and said.

"It would be okay. We have time."


End file.
